Through The Window
by Nekogirisu
Summary: Can Arthur, a brit with a deadly bone disease, put up with his obnoxious roommate? And is there more to the happy, smiling American than meets the eye? What is Alfred here for anyway? This is Arthur and Alfred's moments together as life's clock ticks by.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey all~! This is just going to be a short little story based on a tale I've heard multiple times in my rather short life. Just a few days ago, I also received this tiny story in a forward as an email. So, inspired, I decided to right a fanfiction based off of it. This'll be a few chapters and such, nothing too incredibly long (I think), for the story is just about a paragraph. When this fanfiction is complete, I'll write the tale in my final Author's note. I do not own Hetalia in anyway, or the mysterious story in which I speak of. Hope you enjoy! ;D**

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Arthur gazed up at the blank white ceiling, blinking his emerald eyes slowly. He sighed gently, the beeps of the heart monitor sounding rhythmically with his heart.

"Hey, you okay? That's like, the tenth time you've sighed in the past five minutes," laughed a rather obnoxious voice, breaking the rhythm.

Arthur cringed at the loud voice, his temper flaring. "Shut up you wanker, I can sigh all I fucking want to," he snapped at his roommate, green eyes blazing. Who was that idiot to judge him? All his life he's been judged by people. His family, teachers, schoolmates, everyone. As a child, he was constantly toyed with and bullied, turning him from a quiet, happy child, to the angry, hate-filled, 23-year-old he is now. In the name of the queen, he could sigh all he bloody wanted to, and that git had no right to say anything about it!

"Calm down Artie! I didn't mean to upset ya. Just wanted to know if somethin' was wrong is all," Alfred replied back, his voice softer this time. The blond leaned back against the chair he was propped up in, wheezing slightly has the air caught in his weak lungs. He set his azure gaze on Arthur, or rather, where he thought the other man was. His hands gripped the armrests of the chair, turning his knuckles white while his body shook slightly. Everyday for an hour, Alfred got to sit up in the chair across from his bed to clear the fluid from his lungs that accumulated over the night. During this time, he could talk to the brit, though Arthur didn't seem to enjoy his company too much.

"Of course something is wrong, idiot! Everything is! I'm stuck in this freaking hospital! I can't walk anymore, or even sit up properly. All I have to do is look up at the ceiling! I'm sick of it all! And for the hundredth time, my name is Arthur, not 'Artie'!" Arthur snapped back, clenching his fists tightly. Five years ago, he was diagnosed with an incurable disease. His spine was slowly eroding away, leaving the Briton unable to move without much difficulty. He shifted painfully, turning his head so his eyes caught Alfred's.

Blazing green met sparkling blue. Arthur held the gaze for a few moments before examining Alfred closer. The 19-year-old had a large rather large build. Skinny, but muscular, though you could tell a lot of the muscle toned down from the lack of work-out. His hair was dark blond, almost brownish, with a stubborn cowlick protruding from the right side of the young man's head. His mouth was curved into a large smile, which never seemed to leave the lad's face. The most catching thing about Alfred, though, was his eyes. They shone like endless pools of sapphires, almost to blue to be real. Eyes so glass-like and delicate-looking, it was as though they'd shatter at any moment. You could get lost in those bright eyes, drowned by the torrent of blue that poured from them.

Arthur hated it. He hated those eyes, and he hated Alfred. The boy had only moved into his hospital room a week ago, and since then, has never stopped talking. All he hid was laugh, always so happy. It pissed Arthur off to no end. He wanted to be alone to brood in his misery, but the troublesome blond never seemed to let him. Why couldn't the idiot act miserable too?

"Sorry," was the only reply Alfred gave as his giant grin contorted into more of a bittersweet smile. He caught himself a moment later, however, and plastered that Hollywood grin back upon his face. He was always able to conceal his feelings well, hiding behind that happy mask his whole life. "I know how ya feel, but everything'll be fine in the end," he assured after a few more moments.

Arthur snorted, his bushy eyebrows furrowed in anger. "You do not know how I feel, and never will. Now leave me alone," he retorted bitterly, moving his head again so that he no longer looked at Alfred.

It was true. Alfred would never know how he felt. It was impossible, surely. The other man was so happy, never would he understand what Arthur was going through. _"He's probably in here for a minor surgery or something, obviously nothing big, especially the way the git babbles endlessly without a care in the world,"_ the sandy-blond thought angrily.

However, Arthur couldn't be any more wrong.

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**Woot! Well that's it for the first chapter! :). Hopefully no one is too OOC. Also, I try to check my work as best as possible. However, if I make a mistake anywhere, please let me know! I'm a bit of a grammar Nazi, and like to know where I've made a mistake! :D**

**As for updating, I'm not sure if I should put myself on a schedule for a new chapter every week or two. I was thinking, for every review I get, I'll update a day sooner than planned? Does that sound good? Hopefully I can keep up with that promise! Though, I'm not expecting many reviews. :P **


	2. Chapter 2

"If you need anything, press the help button, and I'll come right in," smiled the nurse, propping Alfred up on the chair once more.

"Alrighty! Thanks!" Alfred beamed back, winking at her.

The nurse giggled and than shuffled out of the room, the handsome blond could be such a flirt. "Goooood mornin' Artie!" Alfred declared as he did so every morning, for the past two weeks. He received a groan in return.

"Please, don't butcher the Queen's English, and stop being so loud!"

Alfred ignored the lecture from the irate Englishman, deciding to hum instead. After humming the American National Anthem, he decided it was time for conversation, that is, if he could effectively produce one without Arthur exploding. "So, how're you feelin'?"

"Shitty."

Alfred leaned back further in his chair, sighing comfortably. For a few minutes, nothing but Arthur's heart monitor sounded through the room. After thinking a few moments, Alfred decided on a good conversation starter. "Where are you from?"

Arthur sighed. This man just wouldn't leave him alone, would he? "Well, I though it was obvious by my accent, but I'm from England. I moved to America when I was eleven."

"Heh, sorry. But that's awesome! What state? I'm from Boston, Massachusetts!" the American declared loudly, his voice sending tremors through Arthur's head. Bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, Arthur held down his temper. He could just feel a migraine coming on.

"Texas. Now will you please leave me alone? Your voice is shattering my eardrums!" the Briton growled back.

"Oh, ok."

Arthur sighed loudly and rubbed his eyes. _In three, two, o-_

"Hey Artie!"

_Fuck._

"What do you want now!" snapped Arthur, his rage unable to contain any longer. "And it's not 'Artie'!"

"Does your family visit you often? I haven't seen them come yet," Alfred question, his curiosity peaking. It's only been two weeks, but the Briton's family should've visited by now, if they even did.

"Yeah, well, my family isn't on the best of terms. And to be honest, I don't care if they visit me or not. I hate the lot of them!" Arthur grumbled in response. Bringing up family made very unwanted memories resurface.

"I see," Alfred paused. "But you shouldn't say that about them. I bet they still love ya! Nothing can change the blood that flows in your veins y'know? Might as well make the best of it!" he continued, face cracking into his signature grin. Those words of comfort, however, seemed to piss the Englishman even more.

"Just shut up! I'm sick of your god-damned talking! Since you're _so _interested about my intimate life, my father stayed in England when my mother, brothers, and I, moved to America. Then, my mom ran off with her new boyfriend. Haven't seen her in years. All my brothers did was torture me! So don't lecture me on making the best of my siblings. You weren't there when I grew up, and you _don't _understand me! So shut the fuck up!" yelled Arthur. This idiot was getting old fast.

"I never had siblings. So yeah, I don't really understand you. But you're lucky, y'know? Even if my brothers were horrible to me, I dunno, I think I'd still be happy. I never really had any of that. Though I was close with someone who was kinda like a brother. Him and I were inseparable at the orphanage, but he ended up getting adopted. I still wonder what he's doing now," sighed Alfred, his eyes seemed glazed over as his mind took him back to the memories of the boy.

Arthur's anger cracked at that moment. So golden boy really wasn't as perfect as he seemed. Guilt replaced anger, gnawing away at his stomach. But why should he feel guilty? How would he know Alfred had a rough past? It's not his fault, so why is he feeling bad? Releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding, Arthur turned his head so he could look at Alfred. "What was his name?"

"Mathew, but I always called him Mattie," Alfred smiled in reply, snapping out of his memories. Though he smiled, his eyes gave away it all. The hurt. The loneliness.

The sudden change in mood shocked Arthur. He never expected for the excitable blond to be anything but happy. "So, when do your parents come to visit you? I haven't seen them come yet either," he hastily replied, hoping that if he changed the subject, Alfred would grow happy once again.

"Oh, I don't have any. I was never adopted, no one seemed to want me. But that's ok! I don't need to have anyone take care of me!" the American replied brightly, probably covering up his true feelings.

"I'm sorry," Arthur mumbled in reply. They were alike in some sense then, he realized. And though Alfred hid it well, Arthur knew. It always hurts when your not wanted.

"No need to be sorry, Artie! I'm the hero, and nothin' could ever get me down!" was the reply with a loud, booming laughter.

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**Oh my gosh, guys! Four reviews, plus so many favorites/alerts! I never expected to get so much! I want to thank you all! This has been incredibly fun to write so far! :'D**

**This update was supposed to be done this Wednesday, but your four reviews bumped it up a few days! Next chapter, I decided, will be done two weeks from now, on Saturday (sorry, not sure the exact date). I know that seems like a lot, and I'm sorry about that! Its just, I like to write multiple chapters at a time, so I feel ahead. This is my catch-up week. Each review I get, however, will bump up the update by a day! :D**

**Also, for those of you who think Arthur s being WAY too pissy, he'll get better as the story drags onward. He's just a really angry guy now. But nothin' Alfred can't fix! ;D**

**And as for this short chapter, I'm sorry about that! This just seemed to be a good place to end! ^_^''. Please let me know if there's anything I should fix! *Grammar Nazi* I'm horrible at proofreading! XD**

***Ends freakishly long authors note***


	3. Chapter 3

"Was there a job you have ever wanted?" questioned Alfred, peering over at his bedridden roommate from where he sat on the chair. That was the conversation starter today. Crossing his fingers, the blue-eyed blond hoped for the other to respond.

A small, bitter smile crossed Arthur's face. "Yes. I have always loved books, from when I was little, till now. I wanted to be a librarian," he replied, his voice gentle, almost fragile. Clearing his throat, the Brit sighed. He wasn't in the mood today. Not for being angry, and not for listening to the peanut gallery a few feet away.

"I'm not much of a fan of books myself, but I've always wanted to be an astronaut, or a firefighter, or even a cop!" Alfred responded a moment later, cerulean eyes glittering. He wasn't known for being an effective atmosphere reader, so his roommate's change in mood never crossed his mind.

Arthur clenched his fists tightly, knuckles turning white. Damn it! He didn't want to be angry today! But how was this boy so oblivious to his surroundings? Breaking the silence he created, Arthur growled, "I can't take this anymore. Why are you so bloody happy all the time? You're in a hospital for Christ's sake!" The Brit clenched his teeth, trying to cool himself down before he started screaming. His emerald eyes filled with rage, practically spitting acid. How he wished he could just disappear off the face of the earth.

"Hey, hey! You don't need to go all PMS-y on me," the happier of the two chided teasingly.

Arthur released a long breath, counting backwards from ten. It didn't help much though. He knew Alfred was right, which pissed him off even more. How could a brat like him just enrage the Englishman so easily?

"I'm sorry."

Alfred's eyes opened wide, not suspecting an apology. Arthur never usually apologized to him, not since the day three weeks ago, when the short tempered man found out he was an orphan. And though this apology seemed forced, it was an apology, right? Finally taking notice of Arthur's odd mood, Alfred gazed in his direction intensely.

Immediately, said Englishman could feel those eyes bore into him, burning like blue flames. Those, azure, enraging eyes. Feeling his hands get clammy at the feeling, Arthur adjusted his head so he could just meet those sapphire eyes head on. Intending to shatter the icy gaze, he didn't expect to get caught in it like a deer in headlights. It was different, somehow. Not the same eyes he locked gazes with five weeks ago, yet unchanged, all at the same time. There was something more behind the cascading blue that poured from them. Most definitely.

"Are you ok?" Alfred prompted, his lips turning into a searching smile, like he was looking for clues on the British man's face. Arthur broke out of his trance. Those eyes weren't right. They couldn't be. They looked as if they saw everything, right down to his soul, yet it was like they saw nothing, all the same. So full of emotion, yet so devoid of it. Their existence was like a contradictory in and of itself.

"Fine." Arthur snapped, jerking his head so he could no longer see the eyes. Instead, he focused his acidic gaze at the ceiling, like the little bastard it was.

"No. There is, I can tell! C'mon! You can rely on the hero! I bet I can help! Most definitely, actually!" the American boomed happily, that Hollywood smile plastered back open his face. It's amazing no one has gone blind from those ridiculously white teeth.

Arthur snorted. "Wow, so perceptive of you Alfred," he hissed sarcastically, then added, "And I don't need any of your help. I don't know where you got this bloody stupid idea that you're a hero, but you need to grow up. Stop being such a child."

Those cold words were met without a response, however. Arthur's breath caught in his throat, as minutes dragged onward, all without a sound but the heart monitor. Each beep was like a scream in the dead silence. Misery pooled in Arthur's stomach, but his eyes never left the pure white ceiling. Alfred was never this quiet. He hadn't said something that bad, had he? As much as he hated Alfred, and wanted to make the lad just as miserable as him, the silence was thick and heavy, eating away at the Brit.

A slight wheeze alerted Arthur that Alfred was still there.

"Look, Alfred I-"

"It's the ceiling, isn't it? Or the sheets, the floor, the walls, the whole hospital, right?" Alfred interrupted, his blue eyes focused on nothing in particular.

"What?"

"You've been in here for so long, surrounded by white. Everything in this room is white. No color, no nothing. You're sick of it, I'm guessing. Am I right?"

Arthur's eyes grew as big as saucers. "H-how did you know?"

Alfred laughed in response. "Hero's intuition, I guess!" he grinned.

Arthur didn't buy any of that, however. "Seriously, Alfred! How the hell did you know? Are you psychic?"

Alfred just laughed again, and shook his head. "You remind me of Mattie; he'd never tell me what was the matter, if something was bothering him. I'd just have to piece things together, so I did that with ya!"

"Am I really that obvious?"

"Nah, not really. You just look up at the ceiling every morning, and sigh," the American smiled back.

Arthur rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, feeling them beginning to moisten up. Oh, no way in _hell_, was he going to cry. "I used to go outside whenever the weather allowed it. My house was built on a grassy hill, and I used to sit under a shady tree, reading a book. I sat there as long as possible, usually after sunset. The sun would bleed red, orange, and pink as it slowly set, welcoming the moon. The blood would turn purple as the evening dragged on, bringing with it the vast amount of stars. And even then, I'd gaze at the sky, finding the different constellations, until mother would call me in for dinner. Now I'm stuck here, slowly rotting away. Did you know, I haven't seen the outside for over five years, since I was diagnosed. My brothers dropped me off here. I was unable to leave alone, and they never came back," Arthur finished, tears finally leaking out of his eyes, streaking across his cheeks, and eventually splattering on the white hospital pillow.

Alfred said nothing, shocked, as he digested the sandy blond's words. Without a word, he turned his head till he felt the sun's warmth upon his face. "I can see it."

"What?" questioned Arthur, confused. He just spilt his heart out to that idiot of a roommate, and this was his reply!

"The world. I can see it, through the window," he clarified, using his hands to gesture to the window. Arthur knew there was a window in the room, but he could never see it. Alfred was the one whose bed was position next to it, and Arthur never really moved from where he lay on his back.

"The world really is so beautiful," Alfred continued, a sweet smile upon his face. It was much different from his others, either mocking, excited, or brash, but this one was softer, more tender. "Would you like to see it?"

"How?"

"Close your eyes."

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**Ugh, I hated the way this chapter turned out! It seems too jumpy and OOC! I am very sorry about that! ^_^''**

**But anyway! I am shocked about how many emails I got from this! People commenting, favoriting, and watching! You guys are truly amazing, and I thank you so much for taking the time out to review this! This update was originally scheduled for Saturday, but all you guys bumped it up! ;D**

**Next review is set for next Wednesday, but with every knew review, I'll bump it up a day! :D**

**If you see any grammatical or spelling mistakes, let me know! I like to be is accurate as possible when writing. *Puts on Grammar Nazi Badge* Yup! That's me!**

**For all of you amazing readers, here's a cookie! *cookies fall from sky***


	4. Chapter 4

"'Close my eyes? What the bloody hell are you talking about?" grumbled Arthur. Closing his eyes, he wouldn't even be able to see the godforsaken white that surrounded him!

"C'mon, dude! Just trust the hero, will ya?" grinned Alfred, blinking those contradictory eyes slowly.

Arthur snorted, but complied anyway. Gently, he closed his brilliant emerald orbs, the white soon fading to black. Truth be told, it was unsettling. Though he'd never admit it out loud, the darkness scared Arthur. Sitting in this hospital bed, it was as though the dark would remain, smothering him totally, till he was finally dead. The darkness. Death. That's what it meant to him. Since diagnosis, the black seemed to be creeping behind those eyelids, accumulating slowly. Soon, it would pounce, and the fuzzy-browed man would be swallowed up, consciousness lost, and truly be deceased. It scared him much more then he'd ever dare to admit, definitely.

How unfair it was.

Those brother's of his, filthy, rotten, scum. They lived on, certainly forgetting his even existence. They saw everything around them, full of brilliant colors. They sat up perfectly, walked perfectly, did everything he wished he could still do. Even Alfred. How lucky that boy was. He could see beyond the window, at all the inhabitants outside. The sky, the grass, everything. And here he was, left to wrestle with the darkness all alone.

"It's breathtaking," sighed Alfred contently, snapping the other man out of his thoughts with a jump. "The sun is brilliant today, shining down brightly. The window overlooks a lake, the waves lapping at the sandy shore gently. To the left, there's a big playground with children climbing all over it, like tiny ants."

Soon, the darkness behind those eyelids exploded into an array of colors, steadily growing brighter as Alfred continued onward. Everything was so descriptive. So beautiful. It was like he was there, standing outside, as the sun beat down upon his head, while children laughed and played. He could see it all.

"Ducks and swans are floating on top of the water. Not far off, on the shore, more children are pushing their model boats against the tide," Alfred's voiced moved like fluid. "They're so funny to watch, all excited as they set their boat out for the first time. But one of them just sunk. The kid's kinda bummed, by the looks of it, but I bet it'll work a million times better once he fixes it! Trial and error, I guess!" he then laughed, the smile almost cracking his face in two. Gripping the chair tighter, Alfred couldn't help but do a grin such as that. His glittering gaze remained on the window, looking as if they saw nothing, yet everything at the same time. Or maybe they were just transfixed by the beauty, one couldn't really tell.

Arthur felt more tears slide from underneath his closed eyes. The scene was just like a beautiful fairytale he once read. "I can see it! I can see everything!" the Brit exclaimed, voice cracking.

The American grinned more in response, though tears oozed out of the corner of his eyes as well, not that the Englishman could see them anyway.

Arthur smiled, eyes still closed, as he roughly rubbed the tears away once more. Taking the sniffling as a 'continue', the blue-eyed blond went on, his smile turning into a sweet, dreamy one.

"Young lovers are walking, arm and arm, along the path around the lake. Around them, sprouting through the grass, are flowers everywhere, Artie! They're amazing! Every color you could imagine, it's there. Colors like the sunset, and sunrise, and even midnight. They mix so well, yet are so different! All trapped on tiny little petals! And then, in the distance, hardly noticeable beneath the baby blue of the sky, is an outline of nearby city's tallest buildings," Alfred finished, his voice growing more excited as he went along.

"It's simply gorgeous," Arthur breathed, the vision of the outside world leaving as he gently opened his spring green eyes. His eyes crinkled as a small smile formed on the usually scowling Brit's face. "Thank you, Alfred."

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"Is there anything I can get you Mr. Kirkland?" the nurse asked from across the room, just finished situating Alfred on the wooden chair.

"No thank you, I'm quite alright," the man responded back, kindly. The nurse smiled.

"Alright then. Just press the call button if you need me, same with you," she added, turning back to Alfred.

Alfred winked at the women cheekily. "Of course! Thank you very much!" he beamed. With a small giggle and blush, the women shuffled out of the room.

It was known, among the staff, that Arthur was the most irate patient. Through the years he has been at the hospital, not once had he tried being friendly with the staff, or anyone else. Most hated to care for him, and anyone who had ever shared a room with the sandy blond, usually requested to be moved within a month. The past three weeks had been different, however. The Englishman smiled, spoke kindly to the staff. And the nurse knew, it just had to do with Alfred. He was the first one to ever last with Arthur, and the staff often listened to him yell at American. He never asked to be moved though, even when a doctor had asked if he wished to.

"_Hahaha, thanks for your concern! But I like this room! And I hope, Arthur will come to like it too, and maybe become friends with me!"_

That was his reply, so happy and optimistic. Whoever talked to him, no matter how foul or ill-tempered, always seemed to change their mood, sooner or later.

The nurse, whom stopped not far down the hall, frowned. Her hazel eyes now downcast. A man such as Alfred didn't deserve to be here. He should be out and about, enjoying life. But that was impossible, wasn't it? The same could be said for most of the residents here as well.

Life aways ended too early.

_OoOoOoOoOo_

Unbeknownst to the other residents of the hospital, Alfred, during the hour he was allowed to sit up, would speak to Arthur, telling him everything he witnessed outside.

And quickly, Arthur's mood had improved. He began to speak to Alfred freely, his voice happy or gentle. The change in tone couldn't help but make the American smile more than usual. Though Alfred knew he helped improve Arthur's moods, he didn't know that the man began to live for those one hour periods, where he could see the world, and all its colors. No longer was he tortured by the white, or the black, that now seemed to shrink into nothingness. Alfred knew nothing of the difference he had made in the Englishman's life.

"Artie! There's loads of people gathered outside!" Alfred exclaimed, his neck twisted towards the window. He tried his best to sound excitable. Inside, though, he was tired. So, so tired.

Arthur breathed in delightedly, having closed his eyes. In his mind's eye, he saw people of all shapes and sizes crowded around the street, not far off from the lake and flowers. "What are they all doing?"

"I'm not su-OH! Dude! There's this giant parade marching down the street! There's a huge group of drummers and trumpeters, stepping in perfect unison while playing. They're all dressed up in red, white, and black. They kinda look like those British Redcoats in the history books I read in school," Alfred explained, blinking those cerulean eyes slowly. He took in a long, deep breath, trying to calm his churning stomach.

Arthur could not hear the sound emanating from the crowd and instruments. It mattered not to him, though, for he could see it all behind those closed eyelids. Each detail so exquisite and descriptive, it was a perfect image.

"Men on large Clydesdales are flanking the parade, leading on floats of every color you could think of. Oranges, blues, gree-Oof," Alfred stopped mid-sentence has he slid from the chair and crumpled to the ground, clutching his stomach tightly.

Arthur's eyes shot open instantly. "Alfred! What's wron-"

"Call the nurse."

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**Ooooo, cliff hanger, maybe? ;D**

**But never mind that! Oh my gosh, you guys! SEVEN reviews within two days! *Faints* You guys really are amazing! :O. Well, as promised, I posted the next chapter! You guys wouldn't believe how happy I am at all of you! 3**

**Depending on my pacing, there are one to two more chapters left. *Le gasp* Next chapter will be set for Thursday, February 16th. But as always, each review I get will bump it up another day. :'D**

***Throws pasta at you all* A reward for your awesomeness! XD. *Salutes grammar flag* Any of you who find spelling or grammatical mistakes in here, please let me know! I love to fix up anything I can! :)**

**I didn't respond to reviews for last chapter because I'm terribly busy at the moment! I apologize greatly for that! But I did read all of them! Just know that! If I have more time, I respond later! THANK YOUUUUU!**


	5. Chapter 5

Arthur gazed up at the ceiling, his eyes round as saucers. Grasping the soft sheets of his bed tightly, he couldn't stop his hands from trembling. The loud gasps of his breath covered the beep of the heart monitor, as the Englishman fought to keep calm. It was a loosing battle.

_Alfred._

His heart jumped, the beeps from the monitor growing faster.

The nurses rushed in the minute Arthur had pushed the help button multiple times, in panic. He listened as his roommate-no, his friend, collapsed onto the floor, unable to respond to the staff. He listened to them speak quickly, too fast for his racing mind to comprehend. He listened as they grabbed Alfred and threw him onto the bed, gently, but still in a rush. He listened as the wheels of the bed squeaked against the floor, and just glimpsed the motionless body as the staff raced from the room.

All he did was listen, but couldn't do a single thing.

He was bloody _useless._

OoOoOoOoOoOo

Arthur hadn't realized he dozed off, when the squeak of wheels jolted him awake. Eyes flying open instantly, Arthur jerked his head to the right. Pain shot up his spine, but at that moment, he didn't care. He needed to see Alfred. The sight he saw, however, made his eyes water, and body tremble.

Alfred, that goofy-looking, handsome idiot, he gazed at not too long ago, looked like another person altogether.

His hair was dulled, almost lifeless. None of the sheen present when he first looked at the man. The American's skin was milky-white, almost devoid of color. Under those once brilliant blue eyes, now a stormy gray color, were dark, purplish bags, It looked as though he hadn't slept in weeks. All the muscle that once covered his body, gone. The pale skin now clung to the bones of the frail-looking form.

This wasn't Alfred. It _couldn't _be.

Arthur couldn't speak, his mouth haven gone dry. Hadn't he gazed at Alfred just days ago? Wait.

No.

He hadn't. Not for three weeks, since he started really talking to the younger blond. He didn't want to look at him again, and get caught in those eyes. Instead, he closed his own, and listened to the other speak. How much of an idiot he was.

_How long had Alfred been decaying like that?_

The brit's hand flew to his mouth, feeling the need to puke. Arthur tried to swallow down the bile that rose in in his throat. He felt sick.

All he cared about was himself. He never even thought to think about Alfred's condition, and how he was feeling. He always seemed so, _happy_.

Then a thought occurred to Arthur, one that he let slip away months ago. Why was Alfred here?

"_He's probably in here for a minor surgery or something, obviously nothing big, especially the way the git babbles endlessly without a care in the world."_

That's what he had thought. And right now, he knew he was terribly, terribly wrong.

"Arthur?"

The weak voice broke through Arthur's thoughts, making him jump. He listened to the wheezing that sounded from behind the curtain that divided the room.

Arthur took a deep breath before replying. "Alfred?" He still couldn't believe it was him.

"Heh. The one and only. Hey, I'm sorry you had to see that,"

He acted as if everything was normal. As if everything was fine. Well it wasn't. Even Arthur could sense the strain in the other man's voice.

Clenching his fists, Arthur shut his eyes. Though, now, behind those eyelids, all he could see was the sapphire blue of Alfred's eyes, or, at least, the color they used to be. "Git. Don't apologize for that. There's no need to."

Alfred shook his head from behind the curtain. "A hero doesn't make others worry." A frown overtook his face, though Arthur couldn't see it. The American wiped a tear that sprang from his eye.

It was true.

Heroes shouldn't make anyone worry, but he had worried Arthur, he could tell. All his life, he failed at everything.

_No one even wanted him._

And worst of all, he couldn't be a hero.

Not to anyone.

And definitely not to Arthur.

"Idiot! Stop going on about heroes. Your human. I'm human. Everyone worries about each other to some degree. So don't you dare get bloody upset about something like this," Arthur snapped back. He didn't mean to get angry, but there was no way in bloody hell he was going to let Alfred beat himself up over this.

"I'm sorry."

Another apology. To be honest, it disturbed Arthur. Where was the cheeky, idiotic, vain person he first met? "Alfred, why are you here? What's wrong?" The Englishman decided to just move onward, ignoring the apology all together. The question of why Alfred was here wriggled in his mind.

Though, once again, to be honest, he expected the reply he received.

"Haha, nothing to worry about, really! Nothing a hero can't handle!" Alfred forced more life into his voice, but Arthur knew it was fake.

"Alfred, tell me," he replied firmly.

"But Arti-"

"-Now! Don't feed me crap, Alfred!" Arthur growled. Again, he didn't mean to get angry. It just...happened.

Alfred sighed, bringing up a pale hand to run through his dead hair. The taste of blood in his mouth made him sick. "I'm sorry," he apologized again. Damn, was he tired. He didn't even have enough heart to argue with the brit.

A bitter smile overtook his features. "Stomach cancer. Well, it started out there, anyway. I was first diagnosed a few years ago. The doctors found a tumor in my stomach. I got it removed right away, but even then, I guess it was too late. Not long after, it grew back again. But this time, it spread to my bones," Alfred explained simply, acting as if it were nothing. "When that happened, it was game over. Wherever I got surgery to remove one thing, another would just show up somewhere else. It spread too quickly. Surgeries are useless now, so I'm here," he finished..

It was then, Arthur began to cry. Slowly at first, and then faster. All that time. The goofball who talked and smiled, just to make others so happy, suffered quietly through this. He wasn't angry, or mad. He didn't spend time wallowing in self pity, or whining.

No.

He spent his time, his effort, to making those around him happy.

And it was then, just a few minutes later, Alfred cried too. He cried in relief, finally able to talk to somebody about what troubled him. And most of all, he cried because Arthur cried. Because Arthur cared enough to cry.

Both found what they used to have, and what they needed now.

Someone who cared enough to talk to you.

Who cared enough to cry with you.

Who cared enough to laugh with you.

Who cared enough to tell you stories of anything and everything.

And most of all, someone who cared enough to listen. To share your grief, and be the holder of your story. The witness that you once lived.

Because, at some point, everyone must die. That was the way life was.

OoOoOoOoOo

Alfred didn't know how long he and Arthur talked once the nurse left, or how long they cried. All he knew was that he told his friend what had been bothering him so long, and it was a relief.

Once they had finished crying, the two talked a bit longer, and then the doctor came to see Alfred, to talk.

But he didn't tell him anything the American didn't already know.

He had already accepted the news he had received.

Gently, Alfred turned his head in the direction of the window. Everything ached, and his eyelids felt heavy, as if they had waits hanging from them.

A genuine smile formed on his face, as he finally gave in, and closed his eyes. The gentle snores from across the room, alerted him that Arthur had already done so as well.

For the past week, he had been so afraid to sleep. It was there, in his subconsciousness, he feared that death's icy grip would come claim him from the earth.

But not anymore.

He wasn't wanted.

He wasn't going to live.

He wasn't going to have a family.

And he wasn't a hero.

But he _was _a friend.

He _had _a friend.

And that was all he ever really needed.

So, that night, Alfred F. Jones went to bed with a smile on his face, knowing, with little bitterness or hate, that he wouldn't wake up in the morning.

**OoOoOoOoOo**

**Oh god! I actually started to cry while typing this! T_T. Is that bad? Should people cry over their own fanfictions? I mean, I knew this was going to happen. XD. Now I must laugh at myself, so I won't be sad. ;P.**

**But never mind that! In a SINGLE day, I got 7 more reviews! A day! You guys really know how to make an Author feel really happy! Thank you all! *pokes readers affectionately with a stick* I love you all! X3**

**I should've updated this yesterday, and I'm really sorry for that! I was incredibly tired, and didn't feel up to writing. But this chapter is extra long, I think, so hopefully that made up for it! :D**

**Lol. But anyway, there's only one more chapter left! Next update is for next Monday. It's a few days farther than a week, but as always, each review will bump it up another day! ^_^**

**THANK YOU ALL (And sorry this Author's note is so long XD)!**

**Ooooo, also, if you see any errors anywhere, mind informing me, you wonderful people you? Much appreciated! :'D**

**Misskitty23~ Well, hopefully that's an answer! ;D. And thank you very much! Yeah, especially during the month of Valentines day. USUK seems to be everywhere! XD. Lol, I don't mind, but friendship stories are quite fun too! :D. Thank you for reviewing! ^_^**


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm so sorry guys! This should have been updated two weeks ago! I have no excuses to give, just that I'm an ass. *Hands readers scones* You can all scone me now. *Ducks for cover***

**OoOoOoOoOo**

The next morning, one of the nurses arrived in the hospital room, bringing water for the two mens' baths. Gingerly, she crept past Arthur, whom was still asleep, to Alfred's side of the room. Usually he was awake by now.

Just before opening the curtain, she called out to the American. "Mr. Jones?" she whispered.

No answer.

"Sir?"

Still no response.

Carefully, the nurse parted the curtain, large hazel eyes casting downward in dismay.

Placing down the bucket of water, she tiptoed closer, grabbing Alfred's hand in her own. Stone cold. Putting her head upon his chest, she listened for a heart beat. Nothing.

Bringing her eyes up to meet the man's face, she smiled sadly.

There, upon Alfred's face, was a smile of his own.

"_He was always smiling, wasn't he?" _she thought, turning to grab the phone on the wall. Carefully dialing the number, she called for the hospital attendants to take the body away.

OoOoOoOoOo

Arthur awoke to a loud shuffling in the room. Opening his eyes, still bleary with sleep, he let out a slight sigh. Usually he wasn't woken up this early.

Shifting his head slightly, he caught movement in his peripheral vision. Two men, dressed in all white (ironically. God, he _hated _that color), were lifting up a black body bag.

"_No. Please don't let that be what I think it is," _he begged silently.

Without a word said, the two began to walk out of the room.

"Wait a bloody moment!" the englishman cried out, catching the other two mens' attention. Quietly, the older looking of the two turned, his brow was raised, but otherwise, his face expressionless.

"Something wrong, sir?" he questioned, his voice a monotone.

"Sure as hell something is wrong! What do you think you're doing here? And where is that git, Alfred?" Arthur practically seethed, his eyes flaring angrily, for the first time in weeks. Why was he so goddamn angry? There was no reason, right? Alfred was totally fine.

_Right?_

This time, the younger of the two men turned to the brit. Grabbing his white baseball cap, he pulled it off of his head in a respectful gesture. A moment later, he put back upon his head, covering up the curly brown hair he had just revealed. "I'm sorry sir, but Mr. Jones has passed away," he answered, pale blue eyes shinning in remorse.

Almost immediately, the anger drained from Arthur's face.

_Alfred...was dead?_

It couldn't have been true! It just couldn't!

Though denial coursed through his veins, a part of him knew. Alfred F. Jones was dead.

_His best friend was dead._

OoOoOoOoOo

Weeks flew by as Arthur laid in his bed, unresponsive. Those green eyes, which were always so emotional, seemed glazed over and dead.

No longer was there any color in the world. No longer was there...anything.

Arthur sighed slowly, the only real gesture that showed he still had emotion anymore.

Alfred was gone.

_Gone._

Slowly, Arthur closed his emerald green eyes. He hadn't cried when he came to terms that he lost Alfred. He hadn't felt anything. But maybe he was wrong. It was like his heart died with Alfred. Like every feeling he once felt joined the loud git in the afterlife.

He just couldn't tell anymore.

In these weeks, he had grown unresponsive, showing no emotion to others. The staff tried to speak with the sandy blonde, but they never got a reply. Hell, even the irate Englishman yelling at them was better than nothing.

But that's what they got.

Nothing.

Opening those forest green eyes once again, Arthur clenched his fists.

"_What can you see now, Alfred? Is your suffering done? Or have you found a good place to rest, with many people to talk to, instead of this resentful man here? Are you happier now that you left me?" _he question up at the ceiling, though he knew no response would come.

He was still expecting it to be a joke. He'd been waiting for the tall idiot to march into the room, a toothy grin upon his face, and declare it was all just a prank. That he was really alive.

And then he would yell at the American, tell him how much of a bloody idiot he was. But then everything would be ok, and Alfred would show him the world once again.

That moment, though, never came. No matter how long he waited, Alfred never showed.

A bitter smile overtook Arthur's face. It was just like the git to keep him waiting.

"_Arthur." _A small whisper snapped the man out of his thoughts. His eyes darted around the room. He knew that voice. He could tell who it belonged to immediately.

"Alfred," Arthur breathed, his voice coming out to low for anyone but him to hear. A soft breeze blew through the walls, parting and ruffling his hair gently. With it, wafted a sweet smell, one he hadn't experienced for years.

It was like melted snow, and wet, earthy soil. Like grass covered in dew, while the sun just begun to rise. Like fog just lifting from the night before, while buds struggled to break through the surface of the dark bed they had laid in for the winter.

"It's spring," smiled a voice at the other end of the room.

Arthur jumped. When had someone walked by him?

The owner of the voice turned on her heal, and walked over to Arthur, a look of longing upon her face.

"Don't you think it's nice? The breeze is just breaking through the chilly winter air. And in not too long, the birds will start singing again. It's just lovely," the nurse sighed happily, as she gazed at Arthur's heart monitor for any problems.

The unresponsive man before her, smiled, despite himself. Something he hadn't done in weeks.

"Yes, it's quite lovely," he replied, his tone light, as his voice sounded in the room for the first time in a while.

Arthur Kirkland was back, like the flowers that returned with the spring.

And Alfred was too. He was like the wind. He wasn't seen, and he wasn't always felt, but he was there, and no matter what, he always will be.

OoOoOoOoOo

As soon as Arthur thought it was appropriate, he asked the nurse if he could be moved.

"Miss?"

The nurse turned to the Englishman, a bright smile upon her face. "How can I help you Mr. Kirkland?"

Arthur smiled, and turned his head to the left side of the room.

"Could you move me where Alfred sat? Next to the window?" he questioned hopefully.

The nurse opened her hazel eyes slightly in surprised, but her smile grew into a large grin. "Of course! That'll be no problem at all!"

Within an hour, the nurse called in a few other staff members for backup, and helped Arthur move to the opposite side of the room.

"Is there anythin' else ya need?" asked another nurse, her coppery hair pulled back into a neat bun. Gently, she hooked up Arthur's heart monitor again, steady beeps now filling the quiet room.

"No, this is quite fine," Arthur smiled, feeling the breeze from the open window hit the side of his face.

"Alrighty then. Jus' call if ya need somethin'," she replied with a polite smile, and then left the room.

Arthur's smile grew a little wider, and his fuzzy brows became less furrowed. He was finally alone.

The Englishman took a deep breath and propped himself up on his elbows. Pain shot along his spine, causing him to gasp. Gritting his teeth, he continued to bring himself into a sitting position. He wasn't going to give up. Not when the window's view was just within his reach. Finally, he'd be able to really see the lake, the children, the flowers, everything.

Now upward, Arthur turned his head slowly, his bones creaking from all the movement.

It was then, when those jubilant, impatient green eyes widened.

There, beyond the glass, through the window, was a blank wall.

OoOoOoOoOo

Arthur fell backwards, his body hitting the bed with a thump. "Ack!" he cried out, half in pain, and half out of anger. His hands grasped the white sheets in an ironclad grip.

A blank wall. _A fucking blank wall._

That was it.

All those descriptions, all those details.

They were lies. All lies.

Tears sprouted unforgivingly from his eyes. That beautiful, colorful world that was waiting for him, calling out to him. It wasn't there. It was never there.

Desperately, he tried to wipe away the waterfall of tears, but his efforts were all in vain. Dropping his arms onto the bed, Arthur growled in frustration. All this time, there was nothing out there. Alfred had made it up.

"Why did you do that, you arsehole! Why did you make me believe there was something out there for me!" he cried at the ceiling, his vision becoming blurry from the tears.

"Why would you do such a thing?" His final cry was cut out by the quick, booming beats of the heart monitor. The last thing he saw was the blurry figures of the staff, before everything went black.

OoOoOoOoOo

When Arthur awoke, he saw a familiar face gazing down at him. Blue eyes shone like sapphires, so bright, and full of life, yet like always, so contradictory and devoid of it.

"Alfred," croaked Arthur, realizing his throat was hoarse.

"The one and only," the American laughed back.

"You," Arthur whispered, reaching upward, and grabbing Alfred's shirt forcefully.

"You lied to me."

The other man looked down at him. "Did I really lie?"

"There was nothing but a blank wall! Everything you described was a lie, nothing more. Why did you make me believe?" He cried out desperately, tears pouring from his eyes once again.

Alfred's smile never faltered though, his eyes still remaining so kind. "It was the world I saw."

Arthur opened his mouth to reply, when everything seemed to dim. It was as if something was sucking him in, everything growing dark. He gasped as Alfred disappeared, now replaced by nothingness.

"No! Alfred! What do you mean by that!" Arthur yelled out, his voice almost failing him.

Suddenly a light appeared somewhere far-off in the darkness.

"Alfred!" Arthur gasped, reaching towards the white opening.

OoOoOoOoOo

"Mr. Kirkland!"

Arthur awoke with a start, now face to face with the nurse from before. Her large hazel eyes looked at him worriedly.

Arthur gazed at the woman, too shocked to say anything at first. He was reaching towards the light when it sucked him in, and now he was lying in the hospital bed once again.

"What happened?" he finally chocked out, realizing his voice was just as hoarse as in his dream.

"I'm not sure what caused you to, but something made you to have a panic attack. Your heart rate went off the scales. Dr. Braginski was able to calm you back down again, so everything will be ok," she explained, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Arthur didn't reply right away, turning his head towards the window instead.

"The window. Alfred would sit here and tell me everything he saw outside. He spoke of all these wonderful images and scenes, and in my mind, I saw it all. Today I looked out it, however, and all there was was a blank wall. Nothing more. Why would he lie to me?" whispered Arthur, finally breaking the silence after a few moments.

The nurse turned her hazel gaze towards the window, a far-off look in her eyes once more. Her small smile transformed into a sad one.

"Maybe he just wanted to encourage you," she replied, voice soft.

"But wh-"

"Didn't you know? Alfred was blind. He couldn't even see the wall beyond the window."

Arthur blinked, digesting what he had just learned. Those eyes. Those gorgeous, yet repulsive eyes. Those eyes that saw through one's soul, yet couldn't see anything at all. Those eyes that were so lively, yet so dead. The eyes that one got caught and trapped in. Those confusing, contradictory eyes.

And now he knew why.

Those eyes, were sightless.

And there Arthur was, always complaining about the white hospital room that was so devoid of color. Or that darkness behind his eyelids that taunted him day and night. He was always so envious of Alfred, so envious of him being able to see the world.

But Alfred had saw nothing. The darkness Arthur feared so greatly, Alfred had been living in it this whole time.

That was when Arthur truly opened his eyes for the first time.

No longer was everything black or white, dull or dead. No. Everything was colorful, and bright.

Some would say Arthur had gone mad behind those white, hospital walls, be they couldn't have been more wrong. He no longer saw the white walls, but beyond them.

To the lake with ducks, where the laughter of children rang out, covering every sound. Where flowers of every hue sprouted, as lovers walked by arm in arm. Where the skyline of the city could just be seen through the baby blue of the sky.

But his visions didn't stop there. No, that was just the beginning. Beyond this peaceful scenery, was the world. The sun setting and rising, as people went about their day. The Earth never ceasing to turn.

A smile crossed Arthur's face. It had taken a blind, kind, funny, caring idiot to get him too see.

And now Arthur saw hope.

Hope that maybe he could be cured.

Hope that he could live to grow old.

Hope that his family would remember him.

Hope that he could someday see Alfred again.

Hope that spawned more hope, creating an endless chain.

And maybe, with that hope, Arthur could walk beyond those hospital doors one day, and see the true world for himself.

Past the hospital walls, and through the window.

**OoOoOoOoOo**

**I want to thank you all for following me through my first fanfiction. You all have given me great impetus to keep writing these, and create future stories. I don't have inspiration often, but this definitely won't be the last you see of me, definitely. :)**

**I know I didn't reply to all of your review's for last chapter, but I did read them all. Thank you all soooo much! It really does mean a lot! 3**

***Huggles readers***

**Also, as I promised in the first chapter, I shall post the short story this is based on. I, in no way, own this story, or Hetalia. No copyright infringement intended. :)**

Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room.

One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs.

His bed was next to the room's only window.

The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back.

The men talked for hours on end.

They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation...

Every afternoon, when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window.

The man in the other bed began to live for those one hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world outside.

The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake.

Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance.

As the man by the window described all this in exquisite details, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine this picturesque scene.

One warm afternoon, the man by the window described a parade passing by.

Although the other man could not hear the band- he could see it in his mind's eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words.

Days, weeks, and months passed.

One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep.

She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away.

As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone.

Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the real world outside. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed.

It faced a blank wall.

The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside the window.

The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall.

She said, "Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you."

**Take the meaning of this story anyway you like, ;)**


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